Page 9

CHAPTER 9

HEL

“F rost. Are you ready?” Hel saw him shake his head, but she didn’t have a choice, they had to move him. “Well, tough. We’re doing it anyway.” She waited until he took another puff on the green whistle, a wry smile pulling at his lips, then looked around at the hockey players. “Okay. We’re moving on three. One, two, three.”

Hel gripped onto his skate, carefully avoiding the blade as they slid him across onto the stretcher. Looking at his face, she saw his teeth were clenched, he was sweating, and his skin had a grey pallor.

“Frost. I need to get a splint on, it’s going to hurt as I’m going to pull your leg to get it as straight as I can.”

If it was possible, his skin went even greyer. She watched him as he nodded his head in understanding.

“Right, take two big puffs on the whistle.”

She waited as his trembling hand held the penthrox up to his lips. When he finished his second inhale, she began to put traction onto his skate, careful to avoid the sharp blade.

“Fuck,” Frost ground out through his teeth, his back arching up off the stretcher.

“I’m so sorry. It’ll only be another few seconds.” Hel continued pulling, feeling the bones grate against each other as she straightened out the limb. “Coach, do the straps of the splint up,” Hel ordered as she kept the traction on.

The older man didn’t hesitate, placing the Velcro of the splint, which had been ready on the stretcher, tight over the top of Frost’s ruined leg.

Hel sat back on her heels. There wasn’t anything else she could do out here.

“Can we move him off the ice?” She gestured to the men to lift the stretcher, and she slowly got to her feet. Smiling gratefully at Coach Morgan when he took her arm to support her.

Clapping rang around the arena as they carried him, and Hel started in surprise, having completely forgotten how big her audience was as she concentrated on Frost.

They took him straight down the passageway and into the locker room, placing him gently onto the floor.

“How you doing there, Frost?” Hel knelt down beside him.

“Fantastic,” Frost slurred sarcastically. “I’ve always wanted to know what white-hot pokers feel like.” He took another puff on the green whistle. “Although I do like this thing.” Holding it up in the air, he examined it thoughtfully.

Hel huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Most people like the whistle.”

“It makes everything much more….” he hesitated for a moment, clearly searching for the words, “distant. The pain is still there, but it’s further away.”

“Yeah. That’s what it does.”

He took another big puff and stated seriously, “I like drugs. I’ve never done drugs before.” He gestured for Hel to come closer. “You know I’m a professional athlete. We’re not allowed to do drugs,” he whispered. Then, a crooked smile lit up his face.

“Don’t you worry about that. By the end of today, you’ll get to try a whole heap of drugs,” Hel told him with a chuckle.

Opening the medical bag on the floor, she pulled out the cannulation set. She might as well put a drip in while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

“Excellent! The drugs make the pokers in my leg more fun.” Frost was starting to ramble.

“Yes, they tend to,” Hel agreed as she laid out her cannulation equipment.

“Is there going to be blood?” Rocky asked from behind her.

“Yes, Rocky, there’s usually blood when you put a drip in.” Hel looked around and was suddenly very aware of the vast number of eyes peering at them and the camera. Meeting the Coach’s worried gaze, she asked, “Is there somewhere a bit quieter we can take him?”

“Yes. The physiotherapy room.” Coach Morgan gestured to the hockey players, who picked Frost up and carried him out of the locker room door into the corridor.

Hel hastily scooped up her medical kit and followed them. Watching in amazement as they all moved in their skates as easily as if they were walking in shoes.

They took Frost into a room, which was big enough for a bed and a bit of space to walk around it. The players placed him down, and Coach Morgan indicated for them all to leave, so it was only him and Hel left.

“Frost. I’m going to do a couple of things. First, I think we need to take your skate off. I’m sure your leg will be swelling, and I don’t want it to cut the blood flow off to your foot.” Hel pulled her scissors back out of the bag, ready to cut the laces.

But Coach Morgan stilled her hand. “That’s okay. Let me remove his skate.”

Going to the end of the bed, he untied the laces and unthreaded them before he began to wiggle at the boot to take it off.

Frost groaned and took another deep inhale on the green whistle. “Coach, you’re off my Christmas list now.”

He groaned again when Coach Morgan pulled the boot a little harder to take it off.

“Was I ever on your list?” the Coach replied wryly.

Hel laid her equipment out for cannulation. She wished she had some stronger painkillers, but the green whistle was the best she could do.

“No. But to be fair, none of the team were either. Not even Star’s on my list.” Frost waved his hand vaguely in the air.

Hel’s ears pricked up, but she kept her head down, pretending she wasn’t incredibly interested in what was about to be said.

“She’s really pretty, but she’s really annoying,” Frost continued.

Hel bit her lip to stop the giggle, which was desperate to escape. He had no tolerance whatsoever for drugs.

The Coach moved from the skate on Frost’s broken leg to the one on his good leg, moving more swiftly now he didn’t have to be careful. “It sounds like you need to break up with her then, son.”

“I do. I tried the other day, but she left for a trip and didn’t let me speak. I need to do it when she gets back,” Frost said and took another puff on the green whistle.

Hel peered at the writing on the whistle. It was only methoxyflurane, yet to Frost, it was like a truth agent.

“Frost. I need to put a drip in your hand.” Hel reached over for his right arm and pushed the sleeve up.

Her gaze caught on a tattoo of a small rainbow with a date under it. The coloured ink stood out against the rest of his pieces, which were mostly intricate black-and-white drawings. She corrected herself, black and skin-coloured drawings.

Frost followed her eyes and tapped the whistle clutched in his left hand onto his arm. “That was for my dog. Dog.”

Hel bit back another laugh. “You had a dog called Dog?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Why?” Hel enquired as she put the tourniquet around his arm.

“Because he was a dog,” Frost replied very seriously.

Hel sputtered as her laughter finally escaped.

“And this one.” He pointed to one a little higher on his arm. “I got one night in college when I was very drunk. And this—“

Coach Morgan cut him off. “Frost. She doesn’t need a tour of your tattoos.”

Hel didn’t comment, as she actually wanted a tour of his tattoos. Instead, she tightened the tourniquet on his arm and tapped on his hand to make the vein stand up.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to put his skates safe and talk to the team,” the Coach stated. Not waiting for an answer before he walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

“Sure,” Hel called after him and got ready to put the drip into the vein on Frost’s hand. “It’ll be a little prick, okay.” She looked up, meeting Frost’s hazy gaze.

“That is not something any man wants to be told,” he slurred.

Hel controlled the smirk that begged to pull the corner of her lips up, and she put the needle through the skin and into the vein. He didn’t even flinch, but he did reach over and touch the end of her ponytail, pulling gently on one of the curls.

“You have the best hair.” He grinned hazily at her.

“Thanks. But you should probably stop talking now. You’re very drugged,” Hel replied dryly, trying to prevent Frost from saying anything to embarrass himself—or her.

She pulled her ponytail out of his reach, not wanting to examine the flush of warmth that spread through her when he touched her hair.

“Sorry.” Frost gazed upwards. “Does the ceiling always spin in this room?” He put the green whistle to his lips and took another puff.

“Not usually.” Hel disposed of her rubbish and packed her bag up. There wasn’t a lot she could do until the ambulance arrived.

“Hmmm. I didn’t think so.” He took another puff on the whistle and kept staring. “It just got faster.”

Hel lifted her hand to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I think you should lay off the whistle for a while.”

Frost gave her an exaggerated pout but put the green tube down on his chest. “You are no fun.”

“I know,” Hel agreed.

“I didn’t mean that!” Frost said quickly, his voice full of concern.

“I’m not offended. People have said far worse things to me after I’ve drugged them.”

Hel had been called every rude name known to man during her time working in emergency, and a few made-up ones. It was an occupational hazard of seeing people when they were at their worst and most vulnerable. They often wanted to lash out at someone, and the emergency staff were easy targets.

“Well, they shouldn’t, you’re lovely.” Frost grinned a crooked smile at her.

“Thanks.” She shook her head, this man was a total lightweight.

Frost lifted the whistle back up to his lips, about to take another puff.

“Don’t!” Hel admonished him.

He winked at her, or at least that’s what she thought he was aiming for, but it was more one eye closed for a protracted period of time then opened. He put the green whistle back to his lips, about to take another deep puff.

Reaching over, Hel tried to snatch it out of his grip. He really needed a break from the medication.

Frost whipped it away, so she couldn’t get to it. “This is mine.” He held it tightly.

“Frost. You’re high as a spaceship, you need to give it to me.” Hel held out her hand.

“Nope. Mine.” His knuckles went white as he gripped it more firmly.

Hel rolled her eyes. It was going to be like this? Right, well he might be far bigger than her, but he couldn’t move, so she thought she could take it off him easily.

Ignoring him, she strolled around the bed to the hand which now held the medicine and pretended she wasn’t interested in it.

When she was level with his hand she went to grab the green whistle, but he evaded her and moved it into his other hand.

“Frost!” She leaned over him to grab it. “Stop being an idiot.”

“Nope.” He grinned dopily at her.

Hel frowned and leaned over him to confiscate the drug. Her fingers closed around his, and she tried to pry the green tube out of his hand.

“Hand it over.” Hel wiggled the tube, then froze when she felt his free hand tangle in her hair.

Turning to face him, she inhaled sharply. In her determination to stop him getting any higher, she hadn’t realised how close she was to him. His green eyes were right in front of her, only centimetres away.

“Hi.” He smiled as his eyes searched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered back.

She needed to pull away. He was high, and he had a girlfriend. She shushed the internal voice which told her he was splitting up with Star, as she couldn’t trust the words of a drugged man.

Frost dropped the green whistle onto the floor, and Hel distantly heard the clatter. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, she didn’t want to. His breath brushed over her face, and he was so close she could feel it when he grinned.

He lifted towards her, and his nose grazed over hers. Hel’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she felt his lips touch hers.

Her eyes flew open, and she wrenched back out of his grip. What the hell was she doing? What the hell! He was her patient. He was higher than he had ever been in his life, and she had tried to kiss him.

She flushed crimson with shame. Was she really so desperate for a man that she would take advantage of someone injured? She was pathetic.

Not making eye contact, she busied herself with repacking the medical bag. When he didn’t say anything, she finally risked a glance over her shoulder. He was staring right back at her.

“Hel—“ He began to talk, but the Coach walked back into the room.

“The ambulance crew are behind me. Let’s get you loaded and out of here.” Coach Morgan pointed at the two paramedics trailing him.

Hel sighed with relief and, resolutely ignoring Frost, turned to the paramedics, who were two young men she knew well from work. “Hi, guys. Good to see you.”

“What have you got, Hel?” The taller of the two men enquired.

“I’m Frost,” Frost piped up from the bed, waving to them.

Hel ignored him. “This is Jake Forster, he’s thirty-six years old. He’s got a compound fracture of his left lower leg. I’ve splinted him and tried to reduce it as much as I could.”

“I did not enjoy that,” Frost slurred.

Hel shushed him. “He’s had penthrox for analgesia.”

“I like the green whistle,” Frost interjected again.

She rolled her eyes. “He’ll need some more analgesia, as I’ve had to take the penthrox off him. He was huffing on it like a junkie.”

“I enjoyed that,” Frost announced.

Hel shivered for a moment that he might be talking about their near kiss, then chastised herself. He was talking about getting high, not her.

“Sure thing.” One of the paramedics opened his bag and began to sort out the painkillers.

Hel wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, after they moved him onto the ambulance stretcher, she ended up holding his hand. She gently tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but his fingers tightened around hers.

“Frost. I have to fetch my handbag.” She needed her car to follow the ambulance to the hospital, as Coach Morgan would probably want to ride with his player.

“Don’t leave,” Frost muttered.

She stared down into his eyes and saw such vulnerability that, against her better judgment, she found herself saying, “They’ll wait for me while I fetch it, and I’ll come in the ambulance with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at the paramedic, who nodded his agreement.